The Weight of Living
by Napoli Corleone
Summary: AU. Arthur Kirkland is a high school teacher. Among his students, Lovino Vargas annoys him the most since the boy was very good with his other subjects except his. His pride as an instructor was hurt. He regrets knowing the reason for his student's performance. Indeed, oblivion is a bliss.


**THE WEIGHT OF LIVING**

Lovino watched his monitor dispassionately. For five hours, the glaring screen was his companion. It was a grueling task to make an essay for the damned eyebrows. He barely moved; his only movement was blinking, which wasn't much. The student groaned at the work that needed to be finished.

By the way, the term _eyebrows_ refers to his English _teache__r __who has_ spiteful eyebrows on his forehead. The bastard was an uppity man from the UK who loved grammatical rules and sentence structures.

Lovino knew he had no time mulling about eyebrows; his mind must focus on the essay. The deadline was in an hour. Compared to his marks in maths and sciences, his grades in English were hanging on the thread; if he cannot make this decent enough, he might be held back for a year. He groaned again.

_I don't fucking care about English! I can speak the fucking language just fine._

Numbers were never his weakness. He enjoyed the technicality of math; the key to passing the subject was memorizing and understanding formulas and theorems and whatnots. Science was interesting as is; comprehension was a walk in a park. As for English, Lovino couldn't appreciate the rigidity of the rules in grammar; he wasn't keen on the written aspect of the language when he can speak it damn well.

Fifteen minutes passed by and the Italian was now panicking. He had forty-five minutes left… and he couldn't plagiarize because _shitty eyebrows_ reads every assignment and is very apprehensive about copy-and-paste works. He even does an online check for every passed work.

_"First of a short introduction to the English language… yeah, that'll look good. Then the statistics of native English speakers and English-as-second-language…" __Lovino murmured; he was typing zealously. His life really depended on this essay. The ideas were pouring into his mind; he was quick to translate it into a cohesive thought. _Ten minutes before the time, Lovino clicked _print_ then dashed to school.

_"In your face eyebrows!" __He thought as he breathlessly passed his work. After the ___class___,_ Lovino's was smiling, pleased with his accomplishment.

* * *

"I fucking hate you so much. I swear to whatever ruling entity of this damned universe that you will never find happiness!" Lovino screamed to the man in front of him. He was teetering on the edge; just one more step, he would fall from a height of five stories. Death will surely embrace him with wide arms.

* * *

Arthur Kirkland woke up in cold sweat; his breathed raggedly.

Lately, the Englishman was having disturbing dreams about his student, the very obnoxious Lovino Vargas, committing suicide in front of him. Arthur was bothered because he didn't know the student personally. Their interactions were limited during his class.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. Afterwards, he went to his kitchen to make himself tea. The aroma of the drink always puts him at ease. While waiting for the water to boil, his eyes glanced to the wall clock. It was still four o'clock in the morning; two hours earlier from his usual waking time. He couldn't go back to sleep, so he decided to proceed with his usual morning routine. By six o'clock, he was prepared to go to work.

At the teacher's lounge, Arthur settled himself and scanned through the homework submissions of his students. Contrary to his student's belief, he didn't have the leisure of reading all of their homework word for word. He would skim through it and get an initial impression then grade it once he read all of the submissions. When he got hold of the work of Lovino Vargas, he didn't proceed to the next student's submission. Instead of just skimming through the essay, he read it word for word, punctuation to punctuation.

While on the subject of _Lovino Vargas_, from what Arthur knew, the student was a third generation immigrant. He was an average student, except for the fact that Lovino was always on his class' _failing list_. The teacher always wondered if this was out of spite; Arthur looked into the student's record and his grades were excellent: he usually gets A's and sometimes B's except for his subject. As an instructor, this was insulting and depressing. It could mean that he was not adept enough at being a teacher. His pride as an instructor was wounded.

When Arthur does (subtly) _implicate Lovino's, degenerate grade_, the lad would be able to pull off an excellent work (for instance acing the tests or handing-in thought provoking essays).

Anyway, the days with his students were numbered. Arthur was excited for the holidays; he would be going home to London and spend Christmas with his family. However, his excitement was dampered when his workload increased. More than half of the class failed his previous exam. _Bloody hell!_ He even lowered the difficulty level but his class somehow, unfortunately, failed. He needed to make another set of questions for those who need to retake the test. He would have to settle with Skype to talk to his parents during Christmas or some messaging application.

_"Their heads were already in the clouds…" __Arthur thought as he angrily typed. He was also guilty of the holiday-fever; the excitement was infectious like the common cold. Even so, he did his job; his students should have also done the same!_

Despite the majority failing, Arthur had found consolation that Lovino was not part of the list. In fact, the young Italian was part of the top 10 who passed which was a rare feat, considering his past record with the subject. "_Miracles do happen," _

On the last day of class, Arthur was ready to go home when Lovino Vargas approached him. "Hey, uh, sir… whatever. Anyway… my grandfather said that, maybe, you want to come over for Christmas,"

The teacher was slightly speechless; unsure at how to respond, he gave a weak nod.

Lovino continued, "He said that he wants to thank you for, you know. Just come over if you want to okay?"

This was certainly a very awkward conversation in Arthur's perspective. The student was very roundabout with his manner of speaking. He was grateful for the invitation but he didn't have the patience right now to decipher Lovino's speech patterns.

"I would love to… Um, where do you live?"

Arthur was confused why the student before him gave him a similar confused expression. He saw how Lovino knit his brows together and his unique hazel eyes, which he often gaze into. During those times, something always flutters in his stomach.

* * *

His eyes were in disbelief as he saw the gravestone;

_Herein rests Lovino Romano Vargas. You are always loved and will forever be remembered._

Arthur's vision began to blur as tears fell from his eyes. He could not believe himself for forgetting who **LOVINO VARGAS **was. _Ah! It's been a three years since his boyfriend died. _He didn't have any student named Lovino; Lovino was someone he met back in college.

They were strangers to each other; then they became acquaintances, friends and lovers (_for a short __three months_).

They wouldn't have had a chance to meet each other; the buildings of their degree programs were located on the opposite ends of the campus. Despite the near impossibility of their meeting, they still met during their freshman year durign the all-university acquaintance party. By then, they only knew each other by face.

Actually, Arthur completely forgot the encounter. Their paths were destined to cross again since they were classmates in a liberal arts subject. It wasn't until the last two months when the two actually had a proper conversation. They were paired off to work for the final paper and that acquaintance party was the starting point of their conversation. It was an awkward start but they got along afterwards.

While working on their paper, Arthur noticed that Lovino's English grammar was horrendous. He wondered how the brunet passed high school. It baffled him because the Italian could speak the language well. He often corrected the part's of the paper that was assigned to Lovino.

"Yeah, yeah… whatever bastard! You're so _**good**_ with writing," Lovino snided and rolled his eyes.

At the start, Arthur was often wounded at the callous remarks of Lovino. It took him quite a while adjust with Lovino's _crude manner of speech_. At some point, he disregarded the demeaning words of Lovino and without any hesitation, verbally fight back.

"Ha, you're one cunning _wanker…_ I can't believe that _I love you._" The green-eyed teacher murmured to the gravestone. His tears still continued to fall down his cheeks. "_Even now, I still damn do!_"

At the present moment, the now high school teacher had a bitter smile.

* * *

By sophomore year, they were more like _**friends**__._

Sometimes, they agreed to have lunch, or meet at the mall and watch movies, or buy things together. The most awkward thing they did together was buying clothes. Arthur was shocked at the amount Lovino shells out for designer clothes. Arthur would often admonish his friend for the extravagant spending.

"Shut up bastard. I have the money to buy these so I buy them besides," Lovino paused and look at Arthur from head to foot. "Clothes are also a reflection of one's character."

"What's that supposed to mean, you wanker!"

Arthur may not buy from boutiques but he made sure that he looked presentable enough. However his dress code, apparently, didn't pass Lovino's standards. His friend dresses _too impeccably_. At one point, Arthur was given several shirts, pants and winter clothes.

"This is not damn pity if that's what you're thinking. I just don't want some random stranger misusing these clothes. At least with you, I know that, I know that you'll take them with care," Lovino shoved several bags to Arthur.

If Lovino was very passionate about his clothes, then Arthur was passionate about books. When Lovino visited over his place, the Italian was slightly surprised at how his tiny living room was packed with several books. When Lovino visited for the first time, he offhandedly commented, "This looks like my grandpa's study. His collection is mostly military books and medical books,"

Since then, Lovino stays over at Arthur's _cramped_ place. When most of the Brit's family returned to UK, he decided to move to a smaller apartment. It's been 7 years since he lived with himself. His parents still supported him: they paid the rent and bills but Arthur works to get by with his day to day expenses(_especially,__ his passion for acquiring books__)_.

Arthur was often embarrassed at the difference of their homes. Lovino was obviously well-off; the Italian's bedroom was bigger than the flat he was staying at. The two-storey house was spacious but no one else was living in it. His friend's familial affairs were none of Arthur's business. The important matter was they were enjoying each other's company.

Their peaceful lived were shaken when, out of the blue, the brunet was screaming at him.

It was a week before the start of junior year. Both students were whiling away time inside the Vargas home. Lovino offered the Brit a wine glass, which Arthur gladly took. After one glass, he decided to stop. Instead, he busied himself with finishing a book on the Gaelic Wars that was lying on the floor. Halfway through the book, Lovino had an outburst that shocked Arthur.

"How do you expect me to love myself when my own parents rejected me? Tell me how bastard!"

Without second thoughts, Arthur closed the book and rushed to his friend who was in tears. It was such a distressful situation for Arthur. The usually headstrong friend of his was now crying; he gently stroked the back of Lovino.

"I hate… hate myself so much."

Lovino was already in his third bottle of wine. To Arthur's horror, there were several empty liquor bottles underneath the brunet's bed: bottles of tequila, vodka... and some expensive liquor.

"Fuck."

From the slurs and hand gestures, Arthur was able to deduce that the reason why Lovino was currently living with grandfather. It was because his parents didn't want him. He never knew the exact details but from the bits and pieces, he could glean, it was a very complicated relationship. For the most part, Lovino was also speaking in Italian and Arthur only knew basic conversations of the language.

The blond was not a smooth talker when on _emotional matters_. Nonetheless, he cleared his throat and spoke,

"_That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect_

_For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;_

_So thou are good, slander doth but approve_

_Thy worth the greater, being wooed of time;_"

"Wh-what the fuck did you say bastard?" Lovino yelled.

"What the fuck did you just say bastard?" Arthur imitated Lovino.

Arthur watched at how his friend's tear stained face was slowly smiling.

"It is one of Shakespeare's sonnets,"

"What does it mean?"

"Oh, well… The poet is saying to the subject that a person should not blame one's self for the flaws because… _good people will always be targeted and it just proves their worth…_ It's something like that," Arthur vaguely answered. He actually forgot the meaning and he was sure that he was mixing up two sonnets.

"This is a first. I've never seen you unsure of something,"

"Oh just shut it. I'm human too; I commit errors,"

For the rest of the night, Arthur was happy that the mood of his friend lightened. Seeing this side of Lovino troubled him because it hurts to see his friend in such emotional turmoil.

This was the turning point in their relationship.

Lovino became more open to Arthur and to reciprocate the trust, Arthur also talked about some of his problems.

Time passed and they enjoyed the remaining years of their school life. The development of their relationship was spontaneous. Without any alcohol or drugs (_occasionally, Lovino coaxed Arthur to do some ___recreational activities ___which often resulted to deep kisses __and touching here and there_), they kissed and their limbs tangled on Arthur's bed.

Without any words of confirmation, the following day, they were officially a couple. However, nothing much changed in their relationship. The two didn't feel the need to actually put a label in their relationship. If Arthur were to put a name he also could not also put one but he can give a description: _they were definitely intimate with one another_. They had sex when they wanted to but they had a bond much deeper than their sexual urges.

As the end of second semester looms, Arthur spent less time with Lovino. He was working on his thesis and other graduation requirements. Lovino too, was busier with his academics. In between their busy schedules, they would free their Friday nights and weekends and spend it in either one's houses. Liquor and drugs were gone inside Lovino's room; instead the aroma of tea and coffee would waft.

Just weeks before Arthur's graduation, Lovino left a missed call and an urgent message. The Brit rushed to the Lovino's favorite spot in the campus: the rooftop of the arts and sciences building. Since the university had a no smoking policy, it was at that place were his boyfriend would take out a pack of smokes and light a cigarette. Sometimes, he would join because he was actually was not a prude man denies himself the pleasure of smoking.

By the time Arthur reached the rooftop, he was breathless and he was pale. His panicked as he saw Lovino's feet which were on the edge. His heart stopped its rhythmical beating. In one minuscule movement, Lovino would fall.

"Lovino… what are you doing?"

"Damn it, damn it bastard… I'm, sorry. I'm sorry for getting you involved with me. I'm so damn sorry,"

When his heart returned to its rhythmical beating and his legs propelled by adrenaline, rushing to where Lovino was, his boyfriend and best friend was lying on the concrete ground, five floors down.

Arthur screamed in anguish. Arthur's scream reflected his hatred. Hatred to Lovino for giving up, hatred for himself for being not strong enough to protect the one he loves and hatred for the world for letting him meet Lovino.

He noticed that the brunet was in some turmoil days ago but he kept his silence. He wanted to ask, to reach out but he didn't.

That will be one of his greatest regrets in life;

* * *

During Lovino's funeral, Arthur was able to meet the entirety of the Vargas family. Mrs. Vargas was crying so much, while the grandfather remained stoic but his eyes were on the brink of tears. The younger brother and Mr. Vargas were trying their best to console the weeping mother. Feliciano, the younger brother of Lovino, approached Arthur and thanked the Brit for being with his brother.

_"You see, I was happy that Fratello, big brother, finally started talking again to me. I think that was a year ago. I always, always sent him messages, e-mails but he never replies. Then one day, he started replying. He also calls me and then he always talks about you, Arthur. Thank you so much,"_

Arthur's heart was weak and it wavered under the loss of his lover and best friend. He distanced himself from the Vargas family as the casket was lowered to the ground. They didn't know that he was the boyfriend of deceased. The Brit suspected that Feliciano may have known or has inkling about the romantic relationship.

Arthur's reverie halted when he heard his name.

"Feliciano?"

"H-hi. How are you?"

"I'm doing fine…"

There was a short silence. Arthur watched Feliciano replace the flowers on the grave. Then, he spoke, "My father could not visit Fratello's grave until this year. My mother, she drowned herself with work. However Grandpa took Fratello's death the hardest. He returned to Italy and sold all of his property here."

"Then…" Arthur didn't finish his sentence.

"_Why is the grave still here?_ Because, because, everyone felt guilty wtih Fratello's death. When we were still children, my parents were trying to make ends meet and Fratello was very sickly. So, Grandpa offered to take Lovino under his roof… His disease worsened when he entered college. The doctors said it was some genetic mutation that causes his brain to degenerate faster than the normal…" A short self-depreciating quiet laughter came from Feliciano's mouth before he continued. "Grandpa tried calling everyone he knew... to let Fratello be part of any experimental trial but Fratello didn't want to take any medicine… It's very like him; fighting head on."

"I'm sorry for rambling. It was nice seeing you again Arthur. I better get going," Feliciano smiled before he left the vicinity.

_Ah._

Arthur already figured for the most part why Lovino was antagonistic towards his familial relations but it hurt him when Lovino didn't speak that he was suffering from an illness. It was unfair. It felt like he was robbed of happiness right from the beginning.

"_No longer mourn for me when I am dead_

_Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell_

_Give warning to the word that I am fled_

_From this vile world with vildest worms to dwell_

_Nay, if you read this line, remember not _

_The hand that writ it, for I love you so_

_That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,_

_If thinking on me then should make you woe._

_O if, I say, you look upon this verse_

_When I perhaps compounded am with clay,_

_Do not so much as my poor name rehearse_

_But let your love even with my life decay,_

_Lest the wise world should look into your moan_

_And mock you with me after I am gone."_

"Lovino… you really are a cunning wanker..." Arthur smiled bitterly as he took the envelope which was placed near the bouquet. "… asking your younger brother to do something like this."

Arthur cried silently. Every day, Feliciano would come here bringing the same bouquet, with the same message in the same white envelope, hoping that he would pass by? Or could it be that this was Lovino's desperate attempt to cling on to life (_fight_) before he would fully succumb to his illness? If only the dead spoke tales, then Arthur's questions (_ache_) could be answered (_soothe_).

However, if Lovino would visit him as a spirit, how would he feel? What would he even ask?

Arthur smiled and wiped away his tears. Maybe that hallucination of his was Lovino's message from beyond the grave. A bit creepy but… It definitely suits Lovino's awkwardness when it comes to communicating what he wanted.

_Maybe there really is hope in hopelessness_.

**.END.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**A/N: **

Shakespeare's sonnets that were inserted here are 70, 71 and 87.

A bit of explanation to the obscure parts; they were intended to be obscure because Arthur himself was loosing his sense of reality. The dream he had was a reflection of his subconscious turmoil. He felt guilty about Lovino's suicide; thus he imposed on himself that he wasn't worthy of happiness.

So, did Lovino really haunt Arthur? That's open to interpretation!

I hoped you enjoyed reading this.

Edited: September 12, 2016


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